Home
by Queen Edmund Pevensie
Summary: 4x02. Hayley drives home to see her daughter with a car full of Originals and takes a moment to reflect.


The back roads of Louisiana are dark, Hayley thinks, driving slow, listening to the sound of the breathing of her daughter's family. _Her_ family. Elijah is awake in the passenger's seat, his hand lightly brushing hers. He keeps looking from the road to her, to back where his brothers and sisters sit cramped, knees pressed against each other. For a family of immortals they look ordinary, exhausted, strangely vulnerable sitting like that in the backseat of her car. Kol staring out the window irritably on one side of Rebekah, Klaus, sandwiched between both of his sisters, asleep. Strange to see him sleep, stranger to see him sleep so peacefully, his head resting on Freya's shoulder. He could be anybody, _they all_ could be anybody, any family in the whole world, instead of the monsters they are. People who are content for a second to be in each other's presence. Hard to believe that any of them are a thousand year old immortal beings who have killed thoughtlessly in the past and would kill thoughtlessly again in the future.

Hard for Hayley to believe that eight years ago, she was twenty-four and pregnant, and couldn't wait to have the baby so she could be done with this family once and for all. Harder to believe that she's one of them.

She feels Elijah staring at her from the corner of his eyes, and glances at him. "What?" she asks.

Elijah shakes his head. "Nothing," he says, staring at her. "I'm thinking about Hope."

"Me too."

"I haven't seen her in five years," Elijah says. "My niece."

"I think she looks like Rebekah," Hayley says. Elijah laughs softly at that, that Klaus's daughter, the object of all of Klaus's affections, the reason he spent five years in a dungeon –so that his daughter might have a family to protect her –looks just like his beloved sister.

"Really?" Rebekah says, poking her head between Elijah and Hayley's seats. "Like me?" From the rear view mirror, Hayley can see a shine to Rebekah's eyes that she knows is yearning to have a normal life. "She got lucky," she says, leaning back into her seat. Klaus shifts in his sleep, closer to Rebekah.

They hit a pothole –a little one. The car bounces a little and Kol knocks his head on the window and swears. Klaus mumbles in sleep. "And she…" Hayley continues. "Hope is perfect." And she is. Smart and kind and brave. Hayley can't believe she's her daughter. And Hope looks like a Mikaelson, so when Hayley enrolled her in school, there was no point pretending she wasn't, even if it wasn't safe. If there was anything Hayley could give her of this family, it would be the name at least. And, well, now that Klaus is asleep and not yelling or monologuing or tearing his enemies limb from limb, Hayley sees a lot of Klaus in her daughter. Before Hope was born she could think of nothing worse than for her baby to be like her father, but Klaus wasn't always the way he is now. He was seven years old once, too. Klaus will recognize himself in his daughter, Hayley thinks, and Klaus will be proud.

"Niklaus will be happy to see her," Elijah says, almost to himself, mirroring Hayley's thoughts.

"She'll be happy to meet him," Hayley says, casting him a brief glance in the rear view mirror. Klaus is awake, slumped in the backseat, eyes open, arms crossed. She's sure he heard, but he doesn't react. The wounds on his chest are completely healed, but he still looks haggard, and he's still covered in blood, his hair falling into his eyes. "She's a lot like him," Hayley says to the reflection in the mirror. Klaus's eyebrow juts out a little. Barely noticeable. "In all the good ways," she adds. Everyone in the car snorts in unison but Klaus. His reflection blinks at Hayley blankly.

"Where are we going?" Klaus says slowly.

"Home," Hayley says without thinking.

Silence fills the space between them, mixes with the heavy night air. Hayley listens as Klaus sifts through his memory, of the two year old daughter he left behind, of Hayley –who all but hated him five years ago –calling it home. A place for their daughter and a place for him, too, if he wants. "Hope…" he breathes. "Five years…is a long time." Hayley glances at him for a second. His hands are clenched, white-knuckled, at his side, and his face looks green in the light of the clock. He spares Hayley a half-hearted smile.

"She should be asleep," Hayley tells him. "But she might be awake, waiting for us." Klaus nods, and he looks a little grayer than before, like the idea of meeting his daughter mere hours after pulling a dagger from his chest is more than he can handle. "You're all she can talk about, Klaus," Hayley says, and Klaus relaxes a little. "Hope can't wait to see you." Klaus nods and settles into his seat, his arms pressed close to his sisters on either side of him.


End file.
